


A Prince By Any Other Name

by graille



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Derse/Prospit Royalty, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 15:32:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3655521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graille/pseuds/graille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince David Strilonde, the fourth of his name, objects strongly to an arranged marriage, and absconds to the neighbouring country of Prospit, changes his name and accidentally gets a job in the palace. Shenanigans occur. A lot of terrible clichés ensue. A fun time is had by all, except when it's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Prince By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this is a present for Dean, and if I'd thought to ask if he had an AO3 account, I'd gift it to him, but I _didn't_ think to ask that, so you'll just have to take my word for it. Happy birthday, Dean! Have an unfinished, terrible fic.
> 
> Before we start, I'd like to clarify a few things. I don't know what time period this is set in, because I'm trash. You might notice that they have high-quality cameras, but not computers or cars. There are two reasons for this. The first is that, due to a combination of various geopolitical and socio-economic factors, the niche for the automobile was never created, since ships were efficient enough thanks to the geography of this world, and the computer relies on several important discoveries that have not yet been made in this universe. The second reason is because I am, as previously stated, trash, and my writing is no better.
> 
> Thank you for your understanding.

_In a small room tucked away in a corner of a very large palace, two figures in purple sat beside a fire and mapped out the future. Files, reports and photographs were strewn across a small wooden table between them, and the taller of the two was shuffling them around the table, creating some kind of order as the second looked on. Finally, he spoke._

"He's the fourth in line -"

"Third, technically."

"Only technically, though."

"What if he needs to take our place?"

"Fourth in line, Rox. That's three extremely unlikely deaths before that situation arises. You _know_ we have to do this."

"I know, it just feels wrong."

_The first stood from his chair, and leant beside the fire instead. He pulled a pair of sharp-pointed shades from his face, and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly._

"If we want to sue for peace with Alternia, we have to stand united with Prospit, and we both know that's not happening until the courts believe there's some kind of union between us and them."

"I know, I know, but … this? Really?"

"Shut up and help me choose."

"Shouldn't we let him choose?"

"Roxy. Do you honest believe that he'll choose sensibly?"

_The second figure's shoulders slumped as she spoke, running a slender hand through her carefully styled platinum hair._

"I want to say yes … but no."

"Exactly. So, there's four of them. They won't give up the Heir that easily, so let's call it three …"

_The night wore on._

-

The twin heads of the sovereign state of Derse had their serious faces on. It was never good when they had their serious faces on. Back when they were little, when they were just his big brother and sister, they'd never worn the serious faces - well, Roxy never had, in any case. Dirk was born with the serious face on, but it never meant that he was about to discuss something of national importance with you, just that he was less likely to laugh at your ironically terrible jokes than the other two were.

Now that they ruled the kingdom, of course, things were different. They sat stiffly in their jewelled thrones, circlets of silver resting in their snow-white hair, and said nothing as his footsteps echoed throughout the throne room. Various advisors, clad in the black robes of the Derse secretariat, turned as he wandered down the red carpet towards them. As their stares bored into him, Prince David Strilonde, the fourth of his name, shoved his hands further into his pockets and slowed his pace down to the most irritating saunter he could possibly manage. If they were going to get him out of bed at 8 am for an official audience, they could damn well cope with the smug little shit act he put on for the general public. He hadn't even had breakfast yet.

He stopped at the foot of the dais, and raised an eyebrow.

"You wanted to see me?" Dave said, drawling the words as much as possible. In the corner of his eye, he could see the chief of Derse's intelligence services grinding his teeth. _Good,_ he thought, and let his smirk inch up his face a little. Whatever the archagent's problem with him was, annoying him was fast becoming one of the most rewarding parts of Dave's day. And all it took was a little more informality than usual. A maximum of entertainment with a minimum of effort. Rose would have been proud of his mad passive-aggressive skills, if his twin ever left the library long enough to be present for one of their snark-offs, said by many to be the stuff of legends. Said by some, in any case. Said by himself, mostly. Said, in fact, _only_ by him, but Dave wasn't going let such a minor detail get in the way of his internal monologue.

"Yes, thanks for showing up." Dirk's voice was quieter than usual.

"At last," Roxy added, but the words were betrayed by the cheerful wink she shot him.

His brother looked tired this morning; there were bags under his orange eyes, and Dave was again struck by how strange it was to see Dirk without his glasses. The King shouldn't wear shades constantly, according to their advisors, so now the pointy glasses were restricted to family time only. Not for the first time, Dave felt a pang of longing for his own pair, tragically broken when an ambassador from some tiny country sat on them, and never replaced because, as Rose pointed out, the prince shouldn't really be wearing them either, and his eyes were a perfectly lovely shade of red besides. _He'd_ suggested waging war on the stupid ambassador's stupid home, but this perfectly reasonable suggestion had nevertheless been vetoed by everyone else. Stupid siblings.

"Leave," Dirk said suddenly, and Dave blinked at him in confusion, before realising that the command was aimed at the small crowd of advisors, who filtered out of the throne room slowly. The archagent was the last to leave, shooting Dave a glare before closing the heavy oak doors behind him. As soon as the doors swung shut, his siblings relaxed. Dirk flopped across the throne, rubbing his forehead, and Dave didn't miss his sister's sympathetic glance as his brother groaned loudly.

"If I have to deal with Noir's warmongering bullshit any more, I swear to Skaia …"

"I know, Dirk, I know."

"It's all _'Alternia isn't really retreating'_ and _'We need to take Prospit while their monarchy is disrupted'_ … why are we still employing him?" Dirk threw his arms into the air as he spoke. Breaking out the melodramatic hand gestures, a sure sign that his brother was reaching unprecedented levels of stress - Dave made a mental note to tone down the attitude slightly. Only slightly though.

"He's extremely good at his job." Roxy reminded him.

He couldn't help himself. A free shot at Noir was too good to miss.

"And what is his job, exactly?"

Roxy's sigh was deafening.

"Dave. We've had a long day, and it's only 8 in the morning. Noir is extremely talented when it comes to organising, interpreting, and collating our intelligence on the other powers. I don't know what you have against him -"

"Other than the fact he's a xenophobic, war-hungry lunatic," Dirk interjected, uncharacteristically. His brother seemed unusually stressed - normally, he at least pretended to be calm and in control. Probably all this talk of the intelligence services. They were nominally Dirk's, but Noir always acted like they were his. Was that what was up? But why would his presence be required now? Dirk usually kept his bitching sessions to the more secure family rooms, where the risk of eavesdroppers was far lower than in the echoing throne room.

"Yes, thank you, Dirk. Other than that, he's extremely important to Derse, and he's been very helpful of late. Could you please back off him? For me?" Dave had to wonder just how she could get her eyes that big. They were like gumballs, huge and pink, and - yep, there it was. The famous Roxy lip-tremble. Even when you knew it was coming, it still got you. He'd seen hardened diplomats fall to that lip wobble, falling over themselves to give Roxy exactly what she wanted. It was devastating, and she knew it.

"Yeah, she's got a point there. He's insane, but it's a useful kind of insanity."

Dave threw his hands up in surrender.

"Fine, I'll lay off Noir. Happy now?" Instantly, Roxy perked up, gifting him with a brilliant smile. Where that smile had come from, he'd never know. It was worlds apart from Rose's purple-lipped smirk, and he was absolutely certain nothing like it had ever crossed his or his brother's face. When they were dishing out the gifts in the Derse royal family, Roxy had got all the charm. Dirk and Rose must have split the intelligence between them, and him … he'd taken all the cool, no matter what Dirk might think.

"Dave. Dave, are you even listening?" Dirk waved a hand in front of his brother's face. "Pay attention, kid. Roxy has information." She stuck her tongue out at him, and was rewarded with a brief middle finger. Dave smiled slightly - his brother and sister were still there, underneath the royal personas.

"Ok, Davey, let's talk about Prospit." He stared at her blankly.

"Why?" he managed, after a moment.

"We'll get to that in a minute. I need you to focus, ok?" Roxy said, and pulled a thin cardboard document wallet from underneath her skirts. She laid it neatly on her lap, and 

"Wait, have you been sitting on that this entire time?"

"Yes. Yes I have."

"I am … I'm just astounded."

"Really," Dirk chimed in, "utterly stoundless?"

"No stounds over here, bro, not a-one. I went down to the stound shop, but they said they were all out, and unfortunately they won't be getting any more until next week, so here we are with this horrible lack of stounds."

"Did you ask them to check in the back?"

"Enough of this silliness," Roxy said regally, with a wave of her hand. "We're talking about politics now. And the 'a' in 'astound' isn't even a prefix, it's just part of the word, so the metaphor is stupid anyway. There's no such thing as a stound, and you're both idiots."

"Alright, sorry. Who crowned you the Queen of Grammar?"

"Dave, do you see this sceptre?" Roxy said, gesturing to the slim golden rod that rested, neglected, against the arm of the throne.

"Yep. Very tasteful."

"Well, if you don't stop mucking around, I am going to shove this very tasteful sceptre right up -"

"Ok, Rox, I get it. I'm concentrating. Look, this is my concentrating face."

"Right. So, I'm sure you remember all that uproar around three years ago? Mom -" Roxy stopped herself suddenly, her lips tightening slightly. "The previous  Queen was away for _weeks_ , remember?"

"Yeah. The King of Prospit died, right?"

"Him, and all his extended family."

"Wait, seriously? All of them?"

"The Queen Mother, The King, his younger brother, his sister-in-law and his father. The children were spared, but every adult was killed at the same time - by an Alternian assassin."

"Holy shit, is that why we're at war with Alternia?"

"No, that's a territorial thing. They invaded our soil, destroyed some of our fleet. And we're not anymore, we're in peace talks. The assassin was a freelancer, or so Alternia claim. Do you listen to anything your teachers say?" Dirk said, raising an eyebrow.

"I would if they were interesting."

Dirk opened his mouth, presumably to say something about the importance of his tutors, but was silence by a slap on the arm from Roxy.

"Lecture later, learn now," she told him crossly. "Dave, are you with me so far?"

He nodded mutely. There was something in her eyes that suggested that, playful though the mood was, important things were happening, and it would be best to listen to her _right now_ or the mood wouldn't be so playful any more. He'd seen this mood before, and knew her well enough to know that when she was like this, Roxy damn well got what she wanted.

"The rightful heir, John -" she handed him one of the photos from the file on her lap "- won't turn 18 until next year, so he can't ascend the throne yet. You know John, right?"

Dave studied the photo carefully. It was from a press cutting, not one of those horrible forced photo shoots, so it looked pleasantly natural. The heir to all of Prospit smiled back at him, dorky buck teeth on full display. He looked sweet enough, all blue eyes, tanned skin, messy black hair and the biggest smile he'd ever seen, but if the years of dealing with the upper echelons of Derse society had taught Dave anything, it was that you could never, ever evaluate anyone based solely on their appearance. Sure, the prince looked innocent enough, but the chances were that there was a shrewd mind hiding underneath it all. Even though he did look like a clerk or a scribe or something. You never knew.

"We wrote a few letters to each other, but that was like, three years ago," Dave said after a long pause. "He sent me some glasses on my birthday, and I sent him … I don't even remember, but it was something lame."

"Good to see that the diplomacy tutors are earning their pay," Dirk said wryly, leaning back into the throne.

"Diplomacy, bluh," Dave responded automatically, and was rewarded with an small but affectionate grin from his older brother, who most likely had no idea that he was smiling in the first place.

 "His sister Jade is of age, but she abdicated before they could even crown her." Roxy said, rolling her eyes at this diversion from the matter at hand.  "Too busy exploring the world, or so they say. She's sticking around to help the regents govern, but our sources say that as soon as John's settled on the throne, she'll be off like a shot."

"By sources, do you mean spies?"

"By sources, we mean sources," Dirk said, with an eyebrow raised.

"So we've got spies there? Cool."

"They've got spies here too, Davey. It's pretty much expected of every big country, and most of the smaller ones too."

Dave sighed loudly, and the ruling Queen of Derse giggled, leaning forward to ruffle his hair.

"I'm not gonna stop calling you Davey, so don't even try it."

"This is bullying!" he declared loudly, ducking out from underneath her hand, "Dirk, Roxy is bullying me. You're the King, make her stop."

"Roxy, stop bullying Dave." Dirk deadpanned, not moving from his position slouched across the throne.

"I'm afraid that the Queen has given express orders for the bullying to continue," Roxy informed him seriously. They exchanged glances, orange on pink, and then Dirk shrugged.

 "Sorry, little man, nothing I can do. The Queen has spoken."

Roxy smiled, and then turned her attention back to the folder. There was a moment of silence as she dug through the papers, and then her hand came out holding two more photos, the first of which she handed to Dave.

"That's Jade, the oldest of the direct lineage," she explained, as Dave examined the photo - a tall girl with masses of black hair framing an angelic face and bright green eyes, clutching a rifle to her chest and grinning eagerly.

"Is she called Jade because of the eyes?" he said, pointing to the photo. "Because that's a pretty big coincidence if she's not."

"I don't know, our spies aren't bringing us back information on why they got their names. They've got better things to do. As do you. Here." She handed him another photo - a lanky boy with dark skin and emerald eyes hidden behind wire spectacles, his mouth parted in an 'O' of surprise. He evidently hadn't expected a photo to be taken. "That's the oldest cousin, Jake. He and his sister have lived with the two royal children at the Palace since the assassin killed their parents. We haven't got that much on him - we know he's heavily involved with their military, but his exact role is kept under wraps. He's a lot like Jade, as far as we can tell -"

"And Jade is the one who abdicated?" Dave asked, trying to keep up. This was almost as bad as the social politics of Derse, which were, coincidentally, another thing he didn't care about.

"Yes, she is. And this is his younger sister, Jane."

Maybe it was his imagination, but both Roxy and Dirk seemed to tense slightly when he took the photo. He found himself handling it delicately in response, turning it over carefully as though it was printed on tissue paper. The girl in the photo was beautiful, huge blue eyes and short dark hair tucked behind her ears. For some reason, she appeared to be brandishing a spoon at someone out of the camera frame, and talking animatedly. The silence stretched on, as though they were waiting for him to say something.

"She's pretty," he ventured. That seemed to do the trick. Dirk nodded to himself, and Roxy managed a smile.

"She's Prospit's sweetheart," Dirk told him. "Does work experience with their police department. Basically the police mascot." Another press cutting was pushed at him. He didn't bother to read beyond the headline - 'Plucky Princess Assists Police' - but admired the photo, the princess looking excited and eager in a police uniform that was ever-so-slightly too big for her.

"She's also spear-heading a movement to feed the homeless," Roxy told him. "One of our spies actually got into their palace by pretending to be homeless and going to the weekly food distribution day. Not sure what he was trying to achieve, but he did it."

"That would explain the spoon," Dave said with a nod.

"Yeah. Baking and police work. Honestly, we're not sure if it's all a publicity campaign, or she just has a strange set of hobbies."

"Well, you know," he said, "Royals are strange people." That earned another laugh, and seemed to alleviate the tension in the throne room a little - but there was still something hanging in the air, something in the way his siblings were sitting, the way they hadn't looked him in the eyes since he'd taken the last photo from Roxy.

"Guys," he said slowly, "this is great, and all, there's nothing I love more than learning about our neighbours, but … why am I here? I mean, not in an existential sense, because I'm pretty sure I was put on this earth to draw my comics, those things are a gift to the art world …" He trailed off, and looked hopelessly up at the King and Queen. Their faces had fallen, and just like that, his siblings were gone.

"Dave, listen, there's something we need -" the Queen said, and was stopped by the hand the King laid on her arm.

"Kid's old enough to hear it straight," he said to her quietly, and then, to Dave, "We want you to marry Jane."

"What?"

"No, sorry, we _need_ you to marry Jane."

"Are you out of your minds? No!" Dave looked between the two of them, hoping to find something in their faces that would tell him that no, this was all a joke, a really stupid joke, and they weren't seriously suggesting he marry a girl he'd only seen in two photos that day.

"The courts need a sign of commitment if we want to make any kind of formal alliance with Prospit," Roxy told him, her eyes sad but unyielding.  "You know, unite the bloodlines and all that."

"Yeah, but - I'm - she's not -" Words, for the first time in his life, had failed him.

"Dave, you knew this was going to happen eventually." It was true, they'd discussed it before, but - but it hadn't felt _real_ , not then. He'd thought … he wasn't sure what he'd thought, actually. He'd daydreamed about joining the intelligence services, or the military, or something more exciting than life in the Palace, but marriage hadn't been part of it. Marriage had never been part of it.

"Yes, eventually! When I was like, 30, not _now_ ," he managed desperately.

"We're so sorry, Dave, but this has to happen." Roxy had got to her feet, and was descending the steps of the dais towards him. He took a step backwards. Contact was not a thing he wanted right now.

"Do I get any say in this?"

"No. No, you don't." Dirk's comment was rewarded by a glare from Roxy, and a sharp,

"Dirk!"

"What?" he said coolly. "We need a union with Prospit, or we don't settle with Alternia, and a war that's claimed thousands of lives claims thousands more."

"Yes, but you could at least -"

"Lie to him? No. He deserves the truth."

"I deserve," he said furiously, "to get some kind of say in _my_ life."

"You're a member of the Royal Family, Dave. You don't get a say. None of us do."

"That's bullshit! What have you given up?" He regretted it the second the words left his mouth. Dirk was up like a shot, flash stepping down the stairs and looming over him, jaw tight. Fuck, but he was tall. That was the thing about Dirk. You forgot how tall he was, how smart he was, how dangerous he was, until he stopped being silent and started being sharp.

"You think we wanted to be in charge?" his brother hissed. "You think we wanted this? Sitting on the throne all day, working all night, running ourselves ragged to keep the country stable? We gave up _everything_ , Dave, our whole lives. All you have to do is marry one goddamn princess!"

The throne room rang with the echoes of that for a few stifling seconds. Dave felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. He didn't care that his poker face was basically non-existent; he didn't care that "punched in the stomach" was the biggest, least ironic cliché possible.

"Dave," Roxy said quietly, and reached for his arm. It was enough to break the spell that held him in place, and spur him into action.

"Fuck you both," he managed, and then turned on his heel and raced out of the throne room, his rapid exit entirely at odds with the lazy entrance he'd made a few minutes before.

 

 


End file.
